


on such a timeless flight

by QuadruplyYours



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Autotelēs, Day 6: Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Doctor Who AU, First Meetings, M/M, New Earth, The Bane Children, Victor is known as The Victor, WeWriteVictuuri Theme Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 18:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15394815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuadruplyYours/pseuds/QuadruplyYours
Summary: He had not counted on Miles turning into a squid alien thing after they left the restaurant and try to eat him as ‘dessert’. Literally eat him, not the sexual kind. Either way, Yuuri wasstronglyopposed.________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Yuuri goes on a date with the creepy guy from his yoga class. Things take an unexpected turn.





	on such a timeless flight

_**on such a timeless flight** _

In all honesty, this was not how Yuuri was expecting the date to go.

He had imagined a lot of things when Miles had asked him out in front of their entire yoga class; Miles endlessly bragging about himself for a few hours whilst Yuuri played with his food, a sexual proposition which Yuuri would quickly decline, or any other scenario where Miles would demonstrate his inherent douchiness.

He had not counted on Miles turning into a squid alien thing after they left the restaurant and try to eat him as ‘dessert’. Literally eat him, not the sexual kind. Either way, Yuuri was _strongly_ opposed.

His shoes slapped the concrete loudly as he ran across the streets, the wet squelch of Miles’ tentacles accompanying it. It was late at night and not many people were around; Miles had chosen a restaurant far away from the main parts of the city. Yuuri was alone, helpless and, most importantly, wishing he had not worn ankle socks. The damn things had been slipping off his feet all evening and they were not exactly helpful in his current situation.

Yuuri ran down and took a sharp left turn into one of the more windy streets, where several shops stood crumbling, their neon signs flashing weakly. He made another turn into an alley and launched himself over the wire fence. Yuuri winced at the rattling sound but continued running.

He sprinted down the other street and paused momentarily as he studied his surroundings.

A photo booth sat sadly by another rundown shop. The photographed faces of the smiling people on the booth had faded and the holographic walls glimmered slightly under the inches of dirt and scum. An out-of-order sign perched precariously outside the door, slightly askew.

Hoping, praying, Yuuri ran towards it and pulled on the handle. Miraculously, it opened and Yuuri bolted inside, slamming it behind him.

He backed away from the door and…

_What?_

The opposite wall of the photo booth wasn’t pressing into his back, despite the fact that Yuuri was some feet away from the door… And there were no seats by the door, only railings… and, _wait_ , was the floor sloping upwards behind him?

He turned around.

And stared.

Yuuri’s first thought was that the inside of the photo booth was a lot bigger than it was on the outside. His second was that the inside of the booth looked nothing like the outside of photo booth. It was cleaner, golden, elegant.

But more importantly, his third thought was that he was not alone.

Yuuri was dimly aware that there were other people in the booth; a scowling blond boy, a dark-haired man, a redheaded girl, and an old man wearing a felt hat.

Yet, the person that caught the most of his attention was the man standing in front of him, his mouth agape as he stared back at Yuuri.

He was taller than Yuuri and wore a long brown coat that made him look even taller. His suit, paired with a black tie, was a deep grey that brought out the blue in his eyes and the silver in his white-blond hair. His shoes were smart but practical, made for running.

He was the most beautiful man Yuuri had seen. He was sure that the man’s smile was more beautiful than the flabbergasted expression he wore now, though that was also extremely pretty. People shouldn’t be allowed to be this lovely. Yuuri’s heart was beating harder than it was when he was running from the tentacle monster that was his date. Beads of sweat pooled into the collar of his shirt and he became conscious of how the strands of his hair messily stuck to his forehead, having fallen out of the gelled-back style he had put it in for the date.

Quickly, though, his panic over being confronted with an extremely attractive man was overwhelmed by his desire to live.

He moved further away from the door and closer to the man, whose eyes became even wider at his approach.

“I know I sound crazy,” Yuuri said, struggling to not look entirely insane, “But there’s a tentacle monster trying to eat me.”

The man looked as though he was about to say something, but Yuuri didn’t have the chance to find out what.

Because at that moment the door banged open, and a tentacle curled around his ankle and  _pulled_.

Yuuri slammed to the ground with a cry, his arms barely preventing him from face-planting the ground. The sharp teeth on the suckers of Miles’ tentacles dug into his leg, tearing through the fabric of his jeans and into his skin. Blood dripped down his leg, staining the fabric first in little spots and then in large patches.

The ridges in the metal floor scraped across Yuuri’s face and arms as Miles’ dragged him closer, opening his beak. “VENGEANCE! VENGEANCE FOR THE BANE MOTHER! THE VICTOR’S COURAGE WILL PERISH!”

Yuuri grunted and uselessly tried to kick Miles in his eye, his beak, anywhere.

Then Miles shrieked as a harsh, high-pitched noise sounded.

Yuuri looked back to see the handsome man point a stick with a blue glowing end at them.

Miles let go of his leg, shrinking away from the noise. Yuuri scrambled to get himself up, almost falling down in his attempt to race to the other man’s side. He leaned on his uninjured leg, shaking.

Miles was still screaming, twisting and turning as the noise rose higher and higher. But he gritted his beak and snarled back at them, “IF I CANNOT KILL HIM, THEN I SHALL KILL YOU.”

Miles reeled back, hissing, before spitting something yellow and foul-smelling towards them.

Yuuri moved quickly; an arm to push the other man out of the way, a twist in his shoulders and legs to take on as much of the white spit as possible.

When it hit him, there was at first nothing but the sensation of being drenched in goo.

And then agony.

Agony so strong that Yuuri collapsed to the floor, his mouth open into a silent scream as he curled into himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miles grin triumphantly before something white hit his face and he crumbled into ash.

It was getting harder to breathe. It was like one of his anxiety attacks, and yet he could not control his breathing as usual. Yuuri glanced down at his legs. The fabric of his jeans was ripped but was also dissolving, holes growing wider and wider where the goo was dripping.

The man knelt near him, cupping the side of his face that wasn’t covered in goo. His irises kept changing; green and grey and blue, like a restless sea. He might be the last thing Yuuri ever sees, this achingly beautiful man. If he was, Yuuri was okay with that.

“Am I gonna die?” Yuuri said hoarsely. Already, he felt his body become limper by the second. Air was rattling through his lungs like an earthquake and it hurt, it hurt, it **hurt**.

“No,” the silver-blond man said, gently pushing his hair from his forehead. “No, we’re going to get you some help, okay? You’ll be okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” Yuuri mumbled. He closed his eyes, turning his face slightly into the man’s chest. The man’s heartbeats seem extra loud and very fast; one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. “I trust you.”

 

* * *

 

“-ri, get the first aid kit. NOW!”

The Victor could not help but stare at the human lying in front of him.

The man was fairly ordinary-looking as humans went, but his eyes were inquisitive and the sight of them staring into his own had stirred something in the Victor. If he was feeling poetic, the Victor might describe the stranger’s eyes as two stars burning in the darkness of space. The man was in a bad state; his blue shirt and jeans were ripped and burnt from the Bane’s poison. His leg was badly injured and it looked like some of the poison had dripped into the wounds. The poison of the Bane was acidic, which meant it would burn the skin but if it entered the bloodstream, leading to a quick but painful death. The man had only 15 minutes left to live.

He couldn’t die. The Victor would not let him.

“Hôpitaux de Nouvelle Genève, New Earth,” The Victor said. He looked up at Yakov. “Yakov, they have a cure for Bane poison there. Someone discovered it recently.”

Yakov nodded. “Georgi, transport us to New Earth, specifically Hôpitaux de Nouvelle Genève. Mila, send a message to them, let them know we need emergency care.”

The two sprung to action. Yakov sat next to him.

“I don’t understand,” the Victor said. “Why did the Bane go after this human when he said he wanted me?”

“Victor,” Yakov put his hand on his shoulder. “This wasn’t your fault.”

But it was. He was the Victor, prophesied to never lose a battle. His very name invited conflict to the point that he and his companions created aliases just to prevent fights. And now another innocent had been harmed by it, by him.

Victor shook his head. “He wanted me. He wanted my pain… I’ve never even _met_ the Bane before.”

“When the human wakes up, we will get some answers.”

“We won’t,” Yuri snorted, the first aid kit grasped firmly in his hand. “He’s just a clueless target, no one important. What  the fuck would he know about all this?”

Yakov scowled at Yuri’s language but said nothing in reply. He and the Victor spent the next few minutes tying bandages to stem the flow of the human’s bleeding, hoping to delay the poison reaching the human’s heart, whilst Yuri prepared more.

When the TARDIS had finally arrived at the hospital (helpfully turning up smack-bang in the middle of the reception, to the horror of the nurses), the man was immediately rushed to ER. It pained the Victor oddly, to see the stranger wheeled away from him and down the cold, sterile walls of the hospital. Something near his hearts had frozen, and every time he breathed he could feel it rising in his throat.

“How’re you holding up?” Mila said, after a few hours. She handed him a coffee as she sat on the bench on his right. Yakov was on the Victor’s left but he had nodded off around the third hour they had been there, his hat pulled over his eyes.

“I’m worried,” Victor admitted, taking a small sip. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“What do you think of the human?”

“That he’s going to have a _hell_ of a shock when he wakes up.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mila nudged him gently. “You were staring at him when he first came into the TARDIS.”

“Well, weren’t you?”

Mila smirked. “Not the same kind of staring as you were doing.”

The Victor looked down at his shoes. The disinfectant system had made them very shiny. “Where are Georgi and Yuri?”

“Getting the human some clothes from the wardrobe. The ones he was wearing are completely ruined.”

“That’s unusually cruel of you,” Victor laughed. “Hasn’t the poor human suffered enough already? And now you’re forcing Georgi and Yuri’s fashion choices onto him.”

“They’ve been given instructions about what to get him, don’t worry.”

“Mr Nikiforov?” A nurse called. She was a member of the species, Catkind, though clearly not one of the Sisters of Plenitude, from the basic scrubs she wore. Her eyes were a brighter green than her scrubs, contrasting sharply against her white fur.

The Victor startled at his alias. “Yes?”

“If you follow me, you may see the patient. He should be waking up soon. Doctor Giacometti also wishes to speak to you.”

The frozen part in him thawed instantly and the Victor leapt to his feet, following the Nurse. Behind him, he could hear Mila shaking Yakov awake.

He walked into the room, stopping at the sight of the stranger unconscious on the hospital bed.

He looked fully healed from his injuries, but there was no colour in his cheeks. Though perhaps the Victor was biased-- he had seen those cheeks flushed with exertion when they first met.

“Will he be okay?” The Victor asked the nurse. “Where’s the doctor??”

“Mr Katsuki-Nikiforov,” another human, blonde and green-eyed, entered the room carrying the chart. There was a flirtatious tilt to his mouth. He winked at the Victor. “The doctor will see you now.”

Normally, the Victor was all for a flirt, but there were more pressing matters at hand. “How is he?”

“Well, I suggest he stays away from Bane poison. Very painful stuff that is, and it does make breathing difficult. Of course, some people like that sort of thing but safety comes first.”

“Doctor Giacometti,” the Nurse scolded lightly, her brow furrowing.

Doctor Giacometti pouted. “You take away all my fun,” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Your husband has been fully healed, and he should be waking up soon.  You can take him home right after that. He won’t need to stay the night.”

“My- I’m sorry, did you say my _husband_?” He glanced at Yakov and Mila for confirmation. They looked equally as baffled as he was.

Doctor Giacometti tilted his head. “Yes. You’re Mr Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov, the husband of Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov? You two were here a few weeks ago when your husband gave us the cure for Bane poison.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Speaking of… You asked us to give you a note from yourself.”

“A note?”

“Yes, that was what I was grabbing just now. You said it was important that we kept this for you since it had to do with your husband.” He handed the Victor a small envelope before turning back to the Nurse, speaking to her in a low tone.

The Victor gaped at the envelope before his curiosity took over. He opened it carefully like he was defusing a bomb, before sliding the paper out and reading it. “Oh. _Oh_.”

“What is it?” Mila asked.

“It’s a note from me… From the future.”

“What?” Yakov looked positively gobsmacked.

Viktor waved him off and continued to read.

 

**Past-Me,**  
**You've met him. Today is the beginning of the happiest days of your life.**  
**From Future-You.**

  
**P.S. Remember to buy more lube. You’ll need it.**

 

The Victor choked on his own spit.

“What does it say?” Yakov tried to read over his shoulder, but the Victor quickly screwed it up and put it in his pocket.

"Can't say. Very personal. Could wreck the space-time continuum and so on." He ran a hand over his hair. “But it says that I was meant to meet him. The human. My… husband.”

“He’s really your husband?” Mila looked over at the man lying in the bed.

“He will be…” Victor licked his lips nervously. “Do I- I don’t know what to do. Should I sit with him? Do I get flowers? You should get your future husband flowers, right? What kind do you think he’d like? What if he’s allergic to flowers?”

“Calm down, Victor,” Yakov said. “You don’t know him yet.”

“I don’t. I don’t know him,” the Victor swallowed. “How-”

_Do I **want** to know him? _

The thought gave the Victor pause. He glanced over at the man in the bed.

He was a complete and utter stranger and yet...

He noticed how long his eyelashes were, casting slight shadows on his cheeks, and wondered what it would be like to watch him wake up every morning. He noticed the curve of his rosy lips and wondered what the sound of his laughter was like. He noticed one of his fingers twitch and wondered what it would be like to hold his hand.

Right now, at this very moment, his relationship to the stranger was like the universe; the certainty that something was there and would develop, expand into something more over time, something with endless possibilities, experiences, meanings and _life_. He could have everything with this man. Or nothing at all. It could be absolute coincidence or divine intervention, chance or fate.

There was certainty in their eventual relationship but not in their emotions. Not in the path they would take.

It was up to them to choose.

The Victor hesitated for a few seconds before he took a seat by the bed.

He did not know this man who would become his husband.

But he would.

He chose to. He chose this.


End file.
